Passion, Anger & A BeeBopping Minivan
Wow. OK. So get this:
I’d just spent a half-hour talking to my lawyer around a flaming issue between me and my ex. Under her counsel, I then wrote my ex an email (with shaking hands), and fired it off just in time to race out the door: I had to pick up my daughter from pre-school. Brain still stewing over the legal issue, I backed out of my carport and unconsciously flicked my CD player to Lady Gaga’s Poker Face. On a whim, I jacked the volume up high – like really high – and braced myself for impact.
I crouched over my steering wheel as the song hit my ears. Legal matters flew out the window as my minivan shook to the song’s base. Slowly I inched my way up my slushy back alley, feeling nothing but the pounding music and the energy in my body.
And then came the vision: I was walking – no strutting – through a dance club like I was the sexiest, most powerful woman on Earth. (I hope you’re grinning right now, cause I am). My aura said ‘don’t mess with me,’ my eyes were straight ahead, and my high-heeled boots threatened to stomp on any man in my path.
Reality followed fantasy – for there I was, sitting tall in the driver’s seat, flicking my chin up, shoulders bopping as if in a strut, as my minivan slowly navigated through the slushy-snow of my back alley…
My dance club reverie continued all the way to my daughter’s preschool. I was fiery, inside and out, wearing a to-die-for-dress and owning my place on the dance floor. Men were but shadows around me as I was consumed by my body’s energy. I was in my skin, wild, dynamic, fierce, yet in control.
At one point in my drive I had to stop at a red light. But my real-life dancing continued. Two city workers roadside turned and looked at my van (they must have heard the base). I nonchalantly ignored them. That’s right boys, I thought, that loud music you hear is coming from a minivan. They and the other drivers didn’t know it, but they were in the proximity of a Wild Woman/ Raging Diva/ Dance Goddess and she’d decided that 3:30 p.m. was the time to spew her fire.
When I finally pulled up at my daughters preschool and turned off the music, a question awaited me in the silence: Why the hell am I thinking about dancing / men/ passion…. when I’m MAD? Not just mad, but scared, worried and tense.
To you, the answer may seem obvious – like maybe the music was simply helping me burn off some steam. But to me, it felt like there was more – for there was a darkness, a rage to my vision.
As of late, I’ve admitted that there is an anger brewing beneath the surface of my skin, an anger I’m unsure of how to control or release. And I wonder, will my passionate, fiery Self, an aspect of me that has reawakened this past year post-divorce, now compel me to step into the blaze of my anger? Should I be very afraid of it because this fire might burn me and possibly others (men) too? Or will its main objective be to free me…empower me?
I truly don’t know the answer. All I know is that something came over me today in my minivan. And I don’t know where my passion and anger started/ ended, or if they were one in the same.